


between the lightning strike and the thunder

by marginaliana



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Toby is well past the age of consent, the very very faintest hint of potential child harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 16:50:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12303384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginaliana/pseuds/marginaliana
Summary: You couldn't forget the goblin kingdom, Toby knew that much, and he spent years trying to find a way back.





	between the lightning strike and the thunder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CariadWinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CariadWinter/gifts).



You couldn't forget the goblin kingdom, Toby knew that much. He'd been there for less than a day, he'd been no more than a baby; none of that mattered in the slightest. He thought of it daily, he _dreamed_ of it. The goblins' wrinkled, laughing faces; their songs that were somehow light and dark all at once; the way they danced with him. And, most of all, the bauble – the glittering globe of light that had swirled and curved in the goblin king's hand, up the line of his shoulder, around his neck and then down to the other hand with endless grace.

He had wanted to touch it then, had reached out his chubby child's hand for it more than once. Now he still wanted to touch it, but there was an adulthood in the desire. He wanted to curl his fingers around it, wanted to see if it was icy cold or warm from the heat of the goblin king's hand. He wanted to bring it to his lips, breathe in to discover if it smelled of smoke or candy or something even headier. He wanted to taste it.

No, he couldn't forget any of it.

Sarah had tried to erase it all from her memory – really, she'd never stopped. By age four Toby had learned not to ask her about it, but it had taken until age seven to understand why. She'd made her choice and she didn't want to regret it; the more she remembered, the more cause she had to question the decision. The choice had been to come home, to bring Toby home, and he respected her for it. He was even grateful. But he kept the little kernel of memory in his mind nonetheless, knowing that someday he'd be old enough to make his own choice.

\-----

Toby was twenty two before he found the way back to the goblin kingdom. The book was thin, almost hidden between two larger books on a badly-lit shelf at the back of his university library. It was the anthropology section, which was curious – he'd thought he would find something in fiction, but none of the things he'd read had rung true. This book, though, was something else entirely.

It was a travelogue, of sorts. An account of the author's visit to the goblin kingdom after he'd wished away his cousin. He'd fought his way through a labyrinth, encountering many obstacles and creatures along the way. Some of the creatures were eerily familiar: the goblins, of course, but also the little dog who rode a big dog, the flames that tossed their heads to each other like basketballs. The castle at the center of the labyrinth was familiar, too: the room with all the stairs going every which way, the throne room with its massive stone blocks and swooping wooden carvings. The memories were fresh as winter berries on his tongue, even now. 

The book proved to him that it had been real – something he hadn't even realized he doubted, a little – but more importantly, it contained the words. The words he had to say, to bring himself to the goblin king's attention.

It was the goblin king who had dominated Toby's attention for the past few years. Everything about him was simply _more_. His rough halo of hair and his thin nose; the glittering black lapels of his jacket and the white waterfall of frills at his neck; his long, strong legs; his mouth, sharp and expressive; his eyes dark and winged, with another world visible inside them just like in the bauble. Toby had woken from dreams of the king many times, hard and aching, sticky in his briefs. He wanted those eyes on him, that mouth against his own mouth, those elegant fingers stroking down over his skin. 

He'd had sex with other people, of course, but somehow they could never measure up. Toby always broke it off before things went too far, because it wasn't fair to them. He knew he couldn't fall in love with anyone – not yet, at least. His fascination was still too strong.

The author of the travelogue had been impressed by the goblin king, too, but in a decidedly less sexual way. More like the admiration of a boy to a favored enemy, the admiration of a grand obstacle that had been, in the end, conquered. Conquering wasn't really what Toby had in mind, but the book was enough to tell him what he needed to know.

By the time he finished reading it, he knew he would go. His parents would miss him; Sarah would disapprove fiercely. Toby hoped he'd be able to visit sometimes, to prove that it wasn't impossible to move between the worlds. But even if he had to stay in the goblin kingdom forever, he would still choose it. He could imagine nothing else.

\-----

He knew it would have to be sincere – the wish to take someone away. Not just a half-hearted excuse to get himself access. It was magic, after all. It would know. The trouble was how to manage it without doing something unconscionable.

It took nearly six months for him to find the answer, and he kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. But once he had the idea, he needed very little time to implement it; there were always children living on the street. He watched the ones that loitered near the library for a week or so. Several of them lived in the alley nearby. 

Toby picked the youngest he could find, a girl with long dark hair, braided neatly but matted to her head nonetheless, and waited until she was alone. He stood at the mouth of the alleyway – not too close – and waited until she turned around. She started, then stilled and eyed him warily.

He wondered what he looked like to her. A little skinny, more than a little goth. Dark eyeliner in wings across his temples, lipstick in a red so deep that it was almost black, studded with glitter. Leather pants, very tight. It was a look he thought he would have enjoyed even if it hadn't been an attempt to tailor his outfit to his intended audience.

"Do you want to leave here?" Toby said, dispensing with any preliminaries. "Do you want to go someplace where you'll be warm and fed?" The girl looked at him without speaking. "I promise," Toby added, "I'm not a pervert. Though I suppose you've no reason to take my word for it."

Her blank mask cracked at that, and she snorted. "No, I guess not," she said. "But… I will anyway. Yeah, I want to get out of here. I want to eat and I want to have a place to sleep. I want to be clean again. I'd take most anything for that."

Toby nodded. "Okay. What's your name?"

"Ellen."

"Close your eyes," he said. She did so, obediently. Toby closed his own eyes, tipped his head up to the sky, and wished with all his heart. "I wish," he said. "I wish the goblins would take Ellen away _right now_."

There was a brief moment of taut silence – and then a rush of air that swirled past him, warm and filled with laughter. He opened his eyes. 

Ellen was gone.

\-----

The goblin king came for him that night. Toby had waited by the mouth of the alley for nearly four hours by then, leaning back against the brick, trying not to count the minutes. He was cold. He had intended to wait an entire day, just to be certain he wouldn't miss his chance, but he was beginning to realize that he probably couldn't last that long. Still, he'd wait as long as his body could stand it.

But he didn't have to wait so long as that. The wind that ruffled his cuffs was cool, and then abruptly it sizzled, as if lightning had struck so close that he could have touched it. Between one blink and the next, the goblin king was there.

He looked much as Toby remembered – dark and light and shimmer all at once. Toby took in the sight of him, but said nothing. After a long moment the king smiled, predatory. 

"The girl tells me," he said, "that you asked her to be wished away. Gave her the choice."

"That's right."

"Why? It isn't the usual sort of thing."

"I'm not the usual sort of person," Toby said boldly. The goblin king raised an eyebrow at him, and he could feel himself flush, but he forced himself not to hurry along. Not to blurt it out. "As for why… I wanted to see you."

"Did you?" the king said, his voice almost a purr. "And now that you've seen me?"

"I want to dance with you." Toby didn't quite know why he'd said _that_ , instead of so many other things. He could have said 'I want to come away with you' or 'I want to get on my knees for you.' But so many of his memories of the goblin kingdom involved dancing. It wasn't much of a stretch to think that the king might like to dance. And if he liked to dance with Toby, he might like to do other things.

The king regarded him for a long moment. "All right," he said at last. "A dance." He held out his hand. Toby's heart had begun to stutter in his chest, but he pushed away from the brick wall and went to take the king's hand in his own. 

When they touched, music filled the air. Toby expected the king to lead, but instead he fell into the follower position, forcing Toby to slide his arm around the king's waist and lead him into the waltz. It was easy to be graceful with such a partner; the rhythm seemed to settle in his bones. The king smelled of candle smoke, of an animal musk, of a dark autumn night when things lurked among the piles of crisp leaves. 

They danced in silence for a while. Toby dared to sweep the king into a swirl, which he followed with a faint smile. Then they were body to body again, warmth to warmth. The music carried on, unceasing.

"Now that you have your dance," the king said at last, "What next? Will you trick me into granting you a boon?" His words were sharp, but his hand was indulgent where it rested on Toby's shoulder.

"Only if the boon is to take me with you."

The king arched an eyebrow. "Take you with me? Away from everything you've ever known?"

"Not everything," Toby said. "I know _you_."

"Do you?" The king looked at him more deeply. Toby made himself hold the gaze. "Ah," the king said. "I see."

"Can you see how I've waited?"

"Oh yes." The king's hand left his shoulder, sliding up the curve of his neck until he was cupping Toby's face. His thumb traced the line of his bottom lip; Toby parted his lips and took it into his mouth, sucking gently. They were still dancing.

The king's eyes were unreadable. "Will you regret your choice?" he asked, taking his hand away. "Your sister would have, if she had stayed."

Toby wanted to deny it, wanted to commit absolutely. But in the face of those eyes, he could be no less than honest. "I'll miss them," he said. "My family. I would hope to visit them at times, and if that isn't possible, then I will miss them. But I would still choose to go with you."

The dance was turning darker now, slowly, inexorably. The king's eyes traced over his face, and then he turned his head up to the sky for a long moment. Toby let himself look at the sharp edge of his chin, the line of his throat, the dip of his collar bone. When the king looked at him again, his eyes were glittering.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, I will take you."

Toby felt heat sweep over him. "Gladly I will go," he said, and it had the ring of a promise. 

The goblin king's smile was like fire. "Come."

"And Ellen?" Toby felt compelled to ask. Because she'd been a means to an end, certainly, but he really had wished her away. He didn't want to see her returned to the streets.

"She'll be my child now," the king said. "Come." He stepped back, then held out his hand. Toby took it. There was a sudden absence of air, as if he stood in the half second between the lightning strike and the thunder. He kept his eyes open and stepped through the gap into the goblin kingdom without so much as a backwards glance.


End file.
